


How Sprocket Got Her Nickname

by Tabbyluna



Category: Skylanders (Video Games)
Genre: And Sprocket makes a steampunk-ish toy, Family, Gen, Reddit Prompt Challenge, SCIENCE!, Steampunk in the sense that they like the science behind inventions a lot, Uncle-Niece Relationship, inventions, no editing we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabbyluna/pseuds/Tabbyluna
Summary: From that day forward, she began poking around her toys, observing and guessing at all the things which made them work.
Relationships: Sprocket & Sprocket's Uncle
Kudos: 4
Collections: /r/FanFiction Prompt Challenge #19 / June 2020





	How Sprocket Got Her Nickname

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, a Reddit challenge. I asked for a random genre, and they gave me Steampunk. But I know nothing about Steampunk, and I suffered from a lot of executive dysfunction lately, so I just sort of winged it. It was an attempt. I'm probably not utilizing many steampunk tropes, if any. But I don't think I have the time to write something else.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy it.

When Spanner came over to visit his sister and his brother-in-law in their big mansion at the top of the hill, his niece would always run towards him with a gleeful squee, eventually crashing into him with a hug. When he bent down to hug her back, she would always whisper into his ear to ask him the same question. “Did you bring me any new toys?” She would ask, followed by a cheeky giggle. 

And that was usually his cue to fish out a toy from his pocket, and explain the basics of the toy. What it was, how to play with it, and anything she needed to be careful of. Once that was done, she would kiss him on the cheek, and gleefully run off into her room. It was the highlight of his visits to the family. This little girl, with her short red hair neatly combed and trimmed, dressed in a frilly pink frock and expensive leather shoes, was always the first thing that greeted him whenever he walked through those large wooden doors. And no matter how drunk his sister got or how finickity his brother-in-law was feeling that day, this one action from his niece always helped to ensure that the visit to their house was ultimately worthwhile.

At first, he had assumed that her want for toys was out of materialism. She was a child, growing up wealthy with materialistic parents. To the point where a common activity he spent those visits doing was hearing his brother-in-law brag to him and the rest of the family (at least those who had bothered to show up) about all the new possessions he had gotten since the last time they met up. “We got a new carriage, a new vacation home, a new collection of diamonds from abroad,” he would say, for a few examples of the possessions he owned. An arm adjourned with jewels would be draped around his wife while he bragged. She would always be dressed in some outfit which probably cost more than what his entire house was worth. With the type of decadence they showed, no one could blame him for assuming his niece was following their footsteps.

But he didn’t have much money. He was kicked out of the house at sixteen for wanting to be an inventor instead of being an idle rich man. Since then, he learned how to make a living doing odd jobs and later, accepting commissions to invent new things for others. He did not have much money to his name. So the toys he gave to his niece were homemade. Despite that, she seemed more than happy to get them, and would always thank him for whatever new toy he managed to invent for her.

“She’s certainly a strange child,” his sister-in-law confessed to him over a glass of wine. “We buy her all these branded, expensive toys, but she only ever plays with yours. She even takes them to school sometimes for show and tell!”

Spanner felt both touched and worried for his niece when he heard that. Because while he was very happy that she enjoyed his toys, he was also worried on her behalf about what the other children in her school must have thought. His toys did not look as sleek or shiny as commercial toys. They were often clunky, with gears and other working parts in plain sight. He wondered if she was ever made fun of by other children for that fact. Since they were clunky and strange, he figured that the only reason why she liked those toys so much must have been because they were made by her uncle. She adored him. And he had hopes that someday, he would be able to afford one of those sleek, shiny toys for her. If anything, just so that she had a toy given to her from her uncle that she could bring to school without risk of ridicule.

He tried to accept more commissions once he set that goal for himself. As many as he could, without completely overwhelming himself. He began cutting corners in other ways too. He stopped buying razors, and thus grew a beard. He started wearing the same clothes three days in a row, all to save money on laundry powder. He even started buying all his groceries on sale. It was an experience, trying to make random ingredients into a palatable dish. But with a little creativity and inventiveness, he usually made something that worked.

But when he felt that his dedication was waning, he decided that he needed to remind himself of why he wanted to do this in the first place. So he printed out a picture of his niece, and pasted it on the wall, over his work bench. He lived in a tiny wooden hut on the edges of the city, so small that his bedroom could only contain a bed and his work bench. As a result, that photo was the first thing he saw in the morning, before he started his work, and the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes to go to bed. It worked wonders as a source of motivation. And each and every day, he always found it in him to keep creating, keep inventing. Keep making things so that she could get her toy.

Spanner was a gifted engineer. He was mostly self-taught, first playing around with the machines at home as a child, then reading books on inventing and mechanical engineering as a teenager. While his sister busied herself with her studies of social etiquette, proper fashion choices, and how to exploit workers while getting away with it, he grew to love machines. Building, fixing, inventing, it all became a way to keep his hands busy. For him to exercise his mind. Most of all, it became his way of giving back to the world.

But goldlings were not supposed to give, they were supposed to take and consume. And that was all they were supposed to do. Creation was reserved for those who weren’t rich enough to hire someone else to make things for them. So when he refused to stop, he got kicked out of the house. Since then, he’d lived by himself. The few months immediately after he was kicked out of his home were some of the hardest months he had ever endured. But once he got himself a roof over his head, warm clothes to wear, and food in his minifridge, he had to admit that he was the happiest he had ever been in his life. Free from his controlling parents and sister, he could do what he loved doing most, earn money from it, and in his spare time learn how to further advance his science. Once he had his needs, and was away from his family, he figured that he did not really need much else in his life. Certainly not any lavish material goods.

But his niece did not have his life experiences. All she had were her parents and other goldlings to emulate from. So just for a while, he found himself slaving away, working all day just to get her a branded toy from the store. He had set his sights on a doll, cheap enough to be a realistic goal, but expensive enough that she would not stand out from her peers. And he kept working and working, counting his money. All passion projects he had were set aside so that he could work. He slept less and less…

Until finally, it was once again another holiday. Goldlings invented a bunch of holidays all throughout the year so that they had an excuse to throw parties and make use of their excessive wealth. That left Spanner with not much time to save up his pennies. And unfortunately, he did not manage to get the doll. Since he spent all his time working on commissions, he did not have time to make her a new toy either. This would be the first time he would visit her empty-handed.

He combed his hair, trying to groom his beard to the best of his ability. Got dressed up the cleanest clothes he had. Then headed off to their house, all while planning in his head what he would say to her. Hopefully, she would be understanding, hopefully she would remain sweet even when he had nothing to give her.

But he knew how a lot of goldling children could get. And he did not have the highest hopes for his niece.

*****

She ran up to him as usual, and hugged him tightly. When he leaned down to hug him back, she whispered in his ear, “Did you get me any toys?”

He looked at her, big puppy dog eyes and sweet smile, and sighed. “Not this time, unfortunately. I’d been too busy working, and… I just didn’t have the time to make you anything. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

And he expected her to break down right then and there. Or at least be highly disappointed. Goldling children got what they wanted, and were known for being spoiled brats. But to his surprise, his niece showed none of those stereotypical behaviours. No kicking, crying, screaming, nothing. Instead, she smiled back, hands behind her back, and walked off. “I need your help for something now, Uncle. Follow me.”

And because he was curious, he followed right behind her, through the hallways and into her bedroom. She opened the door, and waved at him to come in.

Her bedroom was larger than his entire house, and almost every inch of the room was cluttered with stuff. The walls were painted a bubblegum pink, and every piece of furniture was just as pastel. From the baby blue silk curtains, to the yellow-and-pink canopy bed, to the candy-coloured doors in the corner leading to a walk-in closet, the whole place looked like it was coloured in pinata remains. Even the carpet was coloured an unnatural shade of pink. Everything was designed, calculated, to be as twee and girly and cute as possible, with not a single imperfection in sight.

That was how he knew his sister designed every single part of it.

Aside from the furniture, there were knick-knacks, decorations, collections of items, toys. All the things which gave a child’s room some flavour to it. But looking around, aside from a small pile of well-loved toys in the corner (and upon closer inspection, he realised that those were all toys which he had made for her), everything else looked untouched. From the ceramic figurines which lined her bookshelf, to the giant collection of dolls (all in fashionable, detailed outfits, all looking shiny and beautiful, none looking like they’d been played with at all), to the childish painting hung up on the wall. Not a slanted angle, not a speck of dust. It was all decorated, clean, sterile. As if a child did not live there at all.

“Hey, do you play with your dolls?” He asked, curious. 

“I used to. But then Mommy said that I was playing with them wrong.”

Playing them wrong? “What do you mean?”

“I kept taking off their clothes because I wanted to see how they made the clothes. But Mommy said that it wasn’t appropriate for me to play them like that.” 

He looked around some more, and then that was when his eyes landed on her desk. Tucked away in the corner of the room, underneath a window, there lay a small desk. If he recalled correctly, that was the same desk his sister used when they were younger. Back then, she used it for all the acceptable things goldling girls were supposed to use their desks for. Homework, practicing makeup, occasionally writing letters to friends who lived far away. Her desk used to be full of makeup products, pencils, pens, and scented paper.

His niece, however, had a toy taken apart on her desk. There in the centre of the mahogany surface, was a small pile of gears, springs, metal pieces, and a few tools which looked like they were stolen out of the gardener’s shed. “I wanted to see how it worked, and I understand now, but I don’t know how to put it back.”

He walked over to her, perched on her swivel chair. “Do you always take apart your toys?”

“Sometimes. But I try to put them back too. I just think it’s interesting trying to find out how they work, that’s all.” She took a gear from the pile, and showed it to him. “This is what makes all the wheels move, right?”

She was right. He nodded. “It is. Do you need my help putting this one back together now?”

“Yes,” she said, “and Uncle? It’s alright that you didn’t bring me a toy today. I have a lot of questions about all the toys you already got me.”

That was how he spent that day. Instead of being out there with the adults, drinking expensive wine and hearing his brother-in-law’s bragging, he talked shop with his niece. In the process of doing so, he learned just how long she had been doing this. One day, she had accidentally dropped one of the toys he had gotten her, and when it split open, she would have panicked, if not for the fact that it made her realise that there were things inside of toys that made them work. 

And that ignited her natural curiosity. From that day forward, she began poking around her toys, observing and guessing at all the things which made them work. She did in fact steal those tools from the toolshed, and she always tried to put her toys back together again. “But some of them don’t exactly work right afterwards,” she admitted.

“Can I see them?” Asked Spanner, and then she shuffled over to that walk-in closet, and walked out with a small pile of toys. 

“Do you think you can fix them?” She asked, a hopeful gleam in her wide eyes. It only made Spanner smile.

“Of course I can.”

The next time he visited, he repaired all those toys, and he also brought along the blueprints and sketches he had made for them. Since that day, he brought with him knowledge. Teaching her techniques and skills to further encourage the curiosity within her. She asked questions, he gave answers. He also gave her scrap materials. Gears, mini-steam engines, scraps of metal, as well as some of his old tools. All so that she could invent and build too. 

“Well, do you like it?” She asked one day, showing him a boat she made. The first toy she ever made by herself. “It runs on steam power, and I think I used up all the gears you gave me too.”

He grinned, turning it around so that he got to appreciate all the details she had included. “It looks great. Shall we test this?”

They went outside, and his niece had her fingers crossed as he would up the toy. That was natural; he remembered the nervousness he felt when he tested his first invention. But he had prepared her for failure. “Remember,” he told her, “you can fail as many times as necessary. But no matter what, no matter how badly you do, you need to learn from your mistakes and keep moving forward.”

He wound up the toy completely, and then watched as it rose from his hands. Higher and higher, the canvas wings flapping and the gears all clicking in harmony. It rose, soaring above their heads, until it eventually landed in a bush right in front of them. “That went really well,” he told her.

“I would have hoped it would have stayed up for longer than thirty seconds though,” she admitted.

“Well, that’s why now you need to go back to the drawing board and see how you can do better.”

And that was the day he gave her the nickname of ‘Sprocket’. For her use of gears, and because a goldling like her, with her mind and her determination and her love of technology, deserved a name which symbolised all of that.


End file.
